Some call me nuts, some think Iâ€™m crazy.
Iâ€™m almost as sleep deprived as when I had a baby.
I thought itâ€™d be cool to do a Half Ironman.
So I found Coach Marni and training began.
I could already swim, bike, and run,
but I said, â€œDoing this for 70.3 miles would be pretty fun!â€
Here are my biggest concerns about race day –
That Iâ€™ll panic and drown in the bay.
Iâ€™ll hit a pot hole on the bike and fall.
Iâ€™ll fuel inadequately and hit The Wall.
If youâ€™ve never met The Wall, itâ€™s a terrible thing.
Your mind falters and your muscles sing.
What if I poop or pee in my trisuit?
What if my timing chip falls off and thereâ€™s a dispute?
What if I canâ€™t finish within the cut off?
What if I fail to get rid of this cough?
But no! No! No! I cannot think like this.
I must imagine that the race will be bliss.
I must visualize that I will be fast.
I must imagine that Iâ€™ll kick the swimâ€™s ass.
I must think positive about the bike and the run,
because â€“ really and truly â€“ this is all super fun.
Yes, itâ€™s true, Iâ€™ve rhymed run/fun twice.
Iâ€™m a writer but my poetry should be on a breathing device.
But one thingâ€™s for certain, one thing is true.
When it comes to 70.3, I will follow through.
Iâ€™ll hang up my medal and look at it with pride,
and then Iâ€™ll grab Henry and weâ€™ll go play outside.
Because the Half Ironman is just one small part of my life.
Iâ€™m a mother, a worker, a friend, and a wife.
But whenever I feel down and out,
Iâ€™ll remember this accomplishment and give a shout.
We all need a challenge, to see how far weâ€™ll go.
To carry us through each dayâ€™s high and low.
But when this thing is over, after I say, â€œOuch!â€
I think Iâ€™ll get horizontal and reacquaint myself with my couch.